“Phraan, can we talk for a bit?” I asked, as we were walking down the ancient, imperial road. Reaching it had proved simple, without anything that would seriously impede our travels. Compared to the White Mountains themselves, the foothills seemed to contain only minor monsters, nothing strong enough to threaten either of our groups individually and certainly not both groups together. Thus, the local critters didn’t even try, as attacking a group of powerful and well-armed beings was an almost certain trip to whatever afterlife that being might subscribe to. Attacks would only be made by the desperate, either desperate for food or to keep us from threatening their young, something not really applicable in the fall.

“Certainly, Morgana. I was curious if we would find the time to speak.” they replied, a friendly smile on their lips. Once more, I was reminded that there was a reason why elves had a reputation for beauty, as Phraan’s facial features had clear, yet sharp lines and perfectly clear skin, without a single blemish in sight. It was as if they were wearing expertly applied makeup, which I knew they were not.

“You know, you are the first Elf I’ve met in this world and I was wondering, could you tell me about Elves? I only know very little about my people, and even less about yours.” I asked, deciding to first assuage my curiosity before trying to involve myself into the mess that was developing between Phraan, Adra, Hafta and Rai.

“Tell you about Elves, you say.” they paused for a moment, looking up, into the sky. “You make it sound so easy. Well, I guess, I can speak, you can listen and maybe, you will learn something from my rambling. But keep in mind, while I will speak about the Elven society and what parents might tell their children about our way of life, each elf is an individual and what is true for one, might be false for another.” they prefaced their words carefully, making me nod in acceptance.

“Where to start?” another small pause, “You have heard that Elves are a long lived race, that our life-span can last centuries, with a few remarkable beings even lasting a millenium?” they asked and I nodded again. While I wasn’t exactly conscious of that, I had heard about it on the forums, though the accuracy of that sort of information was always questionable.

“Well, that’s generally true, though what you might not know is that, ever since the World-Tree was burned, that longevity is no longer inborn, it is conditional. Our people need something to provide the life-force needed to last, either forming a parasitic or a symbiotic relationship. The Elves of Arbotoma live in harmony with the Great Forest, the Arch-Druid, our leader, exists in close communion with the Ancient Tree at its center. The forest gives us life, and we give life to the forest and so, the cycle continues.”

Their explanation left me with quite a few questions, some of which I wanted to ask later, others I didn’t dare to ask. One of those I wouldn’t dare ask was if it would be possible to acquire the life-force needed using Blood Magic. On the other hand, what they described was very close to the method of a dryad’s immortality, though unless I remembered incorrectly, Adra had told me that the tree also benefited, gaining vitality and an increased life-span from the dryad.

“Like the dryads do?” I prodded, curious about their answer.

“It is somewhat similar, though sadly, our methods are but a pale imitation of their perfection. We adore Dryads in our Realm, welcoming them with open arms if they wish to settle down. Sadly, few Dryads desire to venture far, if they leave their grove at all. Most travel for a few days, letting themselves be carried by the wind on their back, before they settle down. It takes one with rare courage to make her way across the ocean.” They explained, leaving me with little more knowledge but a bit more comprehension.

For the next quarter-hour, I listened to Phraan expounding on elven social culture, as they described the worship of the Gods and the forest, their political system, which amounted to a mix of theocracy and monarchy, and trying to go into social convention, a mess based on social and familial connections, received education, personal power and a couple other factors, all coming together to determine the relative position of a person in society.

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If I took away one thing from their explanation, it was that I did not want to live in elven society. It sounded far too similar to the cliques I remembered from High School, only formalised and lasting centuries.

“Can you tell me about Firn Elves?” I finally asked, breaking their stream of thought.

“Firn Elves, you say?” they paused, looking me up and down and for a moment, I could feel the unpleasant effects of the Observe-Skill in action. Reflexively, I blocked it, before trying something new, namely trying to focus my reflexiv block onto the aspects I actually wanted to hide, such as my level, my class and those all-important traits. My race, even my name, weren’t things I necessarily needed to hide and the idea of being able to selectively block information sounded quite interesting and appealing. Maybe working on it with Sigmir would be prudent.

“Apologies.” They gave me a tight smile, before shaking their head. “I’m afraid, I know very little about those people, your people. After the fall of Yggdrasil, most of the elves ventured South, eventually making their way on Arbotoma, but not all of us. Some remained in the North, despite the hardship and there, in the frozen wastes now known as the Wild Woods and in the Northern Forests, they made their home. There are also tales about some elves settling beneath the hills, though that sounds like a horrific myth to me, living underground, like the dwarves?” I wasn’t sure if the momentary shudder running down their body was merely an affectation for effect or if there was genuine revulsion at the idea of living underground. Not that it truly mattered, even if there was that part within the backstory of my race that spoke of them being underground dwellers.

“That sounds like something you would only do in desperation.” I shook my head, thinking of the few days we had spent underground and how unpleasant that had been. The idea of spending my whole life that way just gave me the creeps, even without some spider-rats that may or may not live in the vicinity.

“I can’t even begin to guess what might make someone deny themselves the open air, the light of the sun and moon and the falling rain.” as they were shaking their head again, it was obvious that the topic was not to their liking, even to someone with limited social experience and ability to read social cues.

“You spoke about that social hierarchy amongst elves. Where would outsiders like me, or non-elves like Hafta fall into that hierarchy?” I asked in a change of topic, trying to weave the other topic I had been asked to talk about into the discussion.

“Visitors generally don’t partake in our social customs, they are guests. Their status is a reflection of their host, though it also falls onto the host to make sure they fit within Elven society.” They paused for a moment, studying me again.

“Now, someone like you, an Elf, though one of a peculiar lineage, that I’m not sure about. You would have to integrate, to demonstrate the society you want to become part of the power of your conviction. That show, that initial contribution, would go a long way to establish your place in society.” they explained, after a brief contemplation.

“Why the differentiation between customs for outsider-elves and non-elves?” I prodded, not liking the implicit racism in their explanation.

“A non-elf could never become part of Elven society.” their direct, almost crass, rejection made me recoil just a little. It was one thing to hear from elders, people like Mrs. Wu, about overt racism and something else entirely to get smacked into the face with it.

“Don’t misunderstand me, we do not see other races as our lessers. It is merely a simple, sad fact that their lives are short and transient, almost not worth the effort to befriend as they simply keel over from old age by the time you get to know them.” Their explanation failed to make me feel better, something that may have shown on my face.

“Is that why you string Hafta along, like some fisher using life-bait?” I asked, slightly angry at the insinuation that getting to know a person like Sigmir was not worth the effort.

“Hafta? She is a friend, nothing more, nothing less.” Their tone was calm, even, without even the slightest ripple. Sadly, it was also loud enough to be audible and the look on Hafta’s face as she heard them made it obvious that they had heard.

Why did I think trying to mediate a social situation was the smart call on my part?